Lovely Lock-In
by athenasdragon
Summary: Sequel to Hunting Happiness; second in my series of the dates from Hunt's perspective. When Hunt is locked onto a movie set with MC, will he be able to keep his feelings in check after the events of the masquerade ball?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Sequel to Hunting Happiness, could probably stand alone. Please R &R. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hunt stopped outside the studio warehouse which was being used as the set for _Love is Everywhere_. It was a typical hot LA afternoon, so the way his collar was sticking to his neck was already irritating him despite it being just a short walk from the Hollywood U campus. Not to mention the fact that he could only get a tour of a ridiculous romantic drama; of course, any experience is good experience, but he wished that he could have brought his students to see the making of something a little more… substantial.

"Listen up, everyone," he barked at the chattering crowd of students. He'd had them in class long enough that they no longer fell silent when he scowled at them, but the noise did gradually trail off. "We're fortunate the producer is giving us the opportunity. That means you will behave in a way that reflects well on the university, _no exceptions_."

Hunt glared at MC in particular. They had been getting cocky lately, and since the disaster at the masquerade ball he had no energy to deal with their shenanigans. It had been easier than he could have hoped to ignore what had happened between them—what he had let happen—but he just knew that they were waiting for an opportunity to get him alone and talk about it.

MC waved their hand dismissively, tossing a smirk to the blonde fashionista they were always hanging around with. Alison? Madison? "Yeah, yeah, I'm a troublemaker."

Hunt ignored them with practiced ease. "No phones allowed on set! Put them in the bin by the doors as you enter!"

An annoyingly-upbeat woman greeted him inside the large double doors. "You must be Professor Hunt! It's a pleasure to have you and your class on set. Unfortunately none of the actors are here today, but I thought I'd show everyone around the sets and explain how some of the more technical things are done. How does that sound?"

He finally extracted his hand from her excited handshake. "That sounds fine. I'll keep to the back and make sure there are no stragglers."

Despite what the woman had promised, most of the tour was spent gushing over the leads' chemistry. The sets were lackluster and cliché—a sidewalk cafe, a poorly-constructed office scene for the love interest's internship, a mostly-pink apartment complete with a refrigerator which was surely full of fake ice cream tubs for the lead to sob into. There were no professionals around for his students to talk to, not even a stray camera man. The experience as a whole was very disappointing.

After thanking the woman through a grimace, Hunt stood off to the side and counted his students as they left. The last thing he needed would be to have to go back and pick up somebody they left behind.

He couldn't really say he was surprised when MC approached. "Excuse me, Professor?"

"What do you want, MC?" Hunt pinched the bridge of his nose so that he wouldn't have to meet their eyes. _Please just be complaining about the walk back._

"We need to talk about what happened…" _Don't. Don't. Don't._ "…at the masquerade."

Hunt flinched at the words. Maybe he wasn't repressing the situation as well as he had originally thought. With a violent gesture, he snatched MC's arm and dragged them backwards into a shadow. Their passing classmates didn't give them a second glance.

MC met his eyes steadfastly, even when he didn't let go of their arm. "Professor Hunt, I…" They trailed off, leaning forward slightly.

"MC…" Hunt breathed out, startled by their closeness. His mind furiously replayed scenes of them dancing together, his hand on their back able to feel every shift of the muscle beneath their skin. _Are you going to kiss me?_

Suddenly, one of the lights overhead popped and sizzled and the moment was lost. Hunt jerked backward, his hand falling to his side. "Are you crazy?! I don't know what you think is going to happen, but—"

"But what?"

"I've already said everything that needs to be said, MC." He set his fact back into its natural scowl. "Our circumstances haven't changed. Nothing's changed."

MC was obviously gearing up for an argument. "But—"

They were interrupted by a metallic squeal as the heavy double doors swung shut. MC dodged around him to try and stop them.

"Hey! Wait! We're in here!"

Hunt followed but he could hear the lock turn and knew it was too late. MC tugged fruitlessly at the handle as real panic began to overtake him.

"You idiots! Let us out!" His voice most certainly didn't crack in the middle of his desperate shout. When there was no response, he turned angrily to MC. "Great. Now I'm stuck with you for who knows how long on the set of this idiotic romance film."

MC waggled their eyebrows. "There are worse ways to spend a night."

"I assure you, there are not. And if you think this is a date, MC, let me stop that misconception right now. This is not a date." He paused to spin around, looking for any other exit signs. "I can't believe you got us locked in here."

"Me?" MC asked incredulously, finally dropping their hands from the door. "How is this my fault?"

"You wanted to talk. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Hey!" MC took several large steps towards Hunt. "You're the one who dragged me all the way over here!"

"I was compensating for your lack of discretion," the professor bit back.

MC threw up their hands. "It doesn't matter. Regardless, we're stuck."

"Let's just find a way out as quickly as possible. I don't want to have to deal with you." Hunt could already feel his unconcerned facade slipping with MC's close presence. The masquerade ball had been just a few hours. Now some of those walls were already broken down and they were potentially facing a night alone together. If he couldn't control himself before, how would he manage it now?

"No offense taken, in case you were wondering. Assuming you actually have emotions in that robot heart of yours." Hunt turned to look at MC, surprised by the bitterness in their voice. When he saw their carefully guarded expression he could only shake his head and strike out farther into the set.

"There should be an emergency exit near the back."


	2. Chapter 2

Hunt trudged deeper into the warehouse, completely in denial that he was somehow trapped in here with MC. "Unbelievable," he snarled. "This is clearly a fire code violation. I'll be drafting a strongly-worded email as soon as we get out of here."

Earlier conflict apparently forgotten, MC hurried a few steps to catch up with him. "Or, we could just make a night of it and enjoy ourselves until morning. Someone will come back eventually."

There was a time when he had that optimistic, go-with-the-flow attitude, Hunt, thought. Probably. "Are you going to help? Or just stand there making inane comments?"

"I'm just saying, this doesn't have to be the end of the world." MC gave him a meaningful sideways look. "It could even be kinda romantic…"

 _Of course_. "I told you. This is not a date." Even as he snapped back at MC, the idea made anxiety swoop through his chest.

"Not with that attitude, it's not." It still amazed him that MC could be such a successful moviemaker when that goofy smile made them look so innocent. Maybe it was because they were approachable. Maybe that's why _he_ was no longer a successful moviemaker.

The feelings of inadequacy which had plagued him at the masquerade returned full force. "Just look for a way out, MC."

This time he got nearly a full minute of silence before MC picked up their chatter once more. "Maybe this isn't a real date, but we can at least talk. Who could blame a professor and student for talking when they're accidentally locked on set together?"

"It's not about blame." Hunt balled his hands into fists and pushed them deep into the pockets of his jacket. "I don't want to talk to you. Not about this."

"Why not? I don't understand… you said nothing would change, but I know both of us want it to. Why can't we have this one night?"

Hunt clenched his jaw and quickened his pace. Clearly trying to reason his way out of conversation wasn't working, so he took the last available option to him and tried to put some distance between them.

"Really? The silent treatment?" MC huffed. "Real mature."

 _Guess what, MC?_ he could have screamed. _If you're going to try and ignore the fact that I'm older and your professor, you can't complain about me not living up to your standards of maturity. Besides,_ he imagined himself rounding on his student to say, _following me to a party in disguise and trying to trick me into falling for you was_ real _mature._

Not that they had needed to trick him.

The downward spiral of his thoughts—and his stride—was interrupted when he saw something promising. "It looks like there's an office over there with several computers inside."

MC appeared to stand next to him, arms crossed. Clearly they hadn't been as far behind as he had thought. "Oh, you can talk now?"

Hunt ignored them. "If we get inside, we should be able to email someone and finally get out of here." He tried the handle on the door but it only rattled once before seizing up. "Figures."

"So what's your plan?" MC asked, still standing where he had left them. "Or are you still not talking to me?"

It was tempting to retaliate with some sarcastic comment but Hunt held back, searching instead for another way to enter the office. Finally, he spotted a narrow opening near the ceiling of the warehouse. "I can get in through there," he pointed. "There's a vent inside the office where that air duct must lead."

He looked around for a piece of scaffolding to help him make his ascent, but all he could see was a trellis. It was a beautiful prop—probably the best-constructed thing he had seen on the entire set. The delicately-curled wrought iron was painted a clean white. Overblown rose blooms, peach tipped with deep sunset pink, hung from a realistic wire vine which was tangled over and around the structure. It seemed a shame to risk damaging it, but he dragged it over beneath the opening nevertheless.

"A rose-covered trellis, huh? Some might call that romantic," MC said aggressively.

Hunt sighed, turning to look at his student. Their relentlessness was wearing him down. "Are you going to help me or not?"

MC shrugged. "Well, I've got nothing else to do." They didn't complain further, fortunately, but instead sturdily gripped the trellis and waited for him to climb up.

Hunt pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and tried to find a foothold. One rickety step at a time, he hauled himself upwards until he was as high as he could reasonably stand. He stretched as far as he could but slipped and almost lost his footing when he couldn't quite reach.

"Well, get up here," he said impatiently. "Obviously, I'll have to hold you so you can reach."

"Right. Obviously."

He watched MC struggle for a couple of feet before he reached down and grabbed their wrist, practically dragging them up to his level. "Oh!" they exclaimed as they scrabbled to find their footing, leaning heavily into Hunt.

Their combined weight made the trellis lean towards them, and for a worrying second he thought they might tumble off backwards. They weren't too high up but the fall was enough to leave bruises, and maybe even break a wrist.

Fortunately, by wrapping an arm around MC's waist and leaning forward, Hunt was able to balance them once more. "Careful!" he breathed as they waited, frozen, for any more movement. It took him a few seconds to realize that he hadn't released MC and that they were leaning into him even more, their eyes on his face.

"This is nice…" they murmured, and Hunt's gaze was drawn to the soft movement of their pink lips. He cleared his throat to disrupt the moment but now his mind was wandering down paths it shouldn't have been.

"Focus, MC. I need you to reach that vent and take the cover off."

"Okay, you can help by holding my hand." MC waggled their fingers in front of Hunt's face, back to the task at hand.

Throat constricting, Hunt felt a flush creeping up his neck. "MC!"

"Hey, you asked how you could help," they rationalized, eyes still fixed on the vent. "Come on."

 _You're not a blushing schoolgirl, Thomas!_ he reminded himself furiously. _You can handle holding hands for a few seconds._ Still, he couldn't keep his fingers from trembling as he reached out to wrap MC's smaller hand in a firm grasp.

MC didn't seem to notice his turmoil. They let go of the trellis and leaned back in a sudden motion which made Hunt inhale sharply, but his hand kept them from falling. They stretched as far as they could towards the vent. Fingers barely brushing it, their arm began to shake with the exertion. "Almost… there…"

"Be careful," Hunt gasped when he felt the trellis tilting once more.

If they had heard him, MC made no response. Instead, they wrenched their hand from his and leapt out to clutch at the edge of the vent. Hunt reached for them involuntarily but they hung suspended where their fingers had found purchase.

"Got it!"

Hunt pulled back his hands to grip the trellis and watched as MC swung their legs up into the vent in a fluid motion. He could hear them thumping along the narrow passage, through the ceiling over his head and back into the office. Careful not to hook any clothing on the trellis, he slid down and was waiting at the door when MC unlocked it from the inside.

Excitement at the prospect of escape overcame him and he pushed past MC to the nearest computer. The power button came off when he pressed it; obviously it was broken.

"This one doesn't work."

The next screen and the one after stayed resolutely dark when he tried to turn them on. He made his way around the room, growing more and more frustrated as each device failed.

"I think you missed one," MC muttered behind him. It was hard to tell whether or not they had meant to be heard.

"These are all just props!" Hunt exclaimed as he reached the last sad computer. "This one is just a cardboard box painted to look like a computer." He picked it up; it weighed nothing in his hands. Curls of silver paint fell to the floor where they had peeled from around the "screen." Suddenly furious with how futile his escape plans seemed, he threw the cardboard computer as hard as he could. However, since it could hardly be called aerodynamic, it bounced gently off the wall and came to rest undamaged on the floor.

"I can't believe I'm actually stuck here with you. This must be some kind of nightmare," Hunt seethed. He was breathing heavily all of a sudden and his palms were clammy. _Stop panicking. Stop panicking. Calm down._

"Does that mean you dream about me?" MC asked drily, all the playfulness gone from their voice.

Half-forgotten images from dreams and nightmares flitted through his mind: a sunset over the ocean, the tangy sweetness of a raspberry tart shared with MC, dresses and coattails swirling out of sight around corners, an official-looking letter on his desk… MC on his desk. The sudden assault of colors and emotions flustered him. "That's not what I… You know what I meant!"

Hunt turned on his heel and left before his eyes could meet MC's. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside the office, it was noticeably cooler now that the afternoon was becoming evening and the sun no longer poured through the tall windows around the outside of the warehouse. Hunt's jacket was enough to keep him warm, especially since the cold wasn't too severe, but MC shivered. He took in their bare arms and felt a spark of annoyance.

"No jacket? Typical."

"Forgive me," they snapped back. "I wasn't planning on spending my evening in a giant refrigerator."

Hunt realized for perhaps the first time that MC was probably just as unhappy with their situation as he was, but he knew that if he softened his attitude now his walls would keep falling away. "I suppose you're expecting me to offer you my coat like some boy walking you home from Prom?"

"I wouldn't take it if you paid me."

 _Fine. Freeze for all I care._ Halting his wandering path back into the warehouse, Hunt glanced around one more time. "Well, we're not getting out of here anytime soon."

MC stopped walking, too, and faced him. "You're finally admitting you've been wrong this whole time?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but trying to escape is clearly futile." He sighed. "Your turn. What do you want to do?"

MC took their time looking around, trailing their hands up and down their arms in an attempt to generate some heat. "Maybe we can look for something to eat?"

At the thought of food, Hunt's stomach growled uneasily. "You had a good idea for once. There's bound to be leftovers somewhere in this building."

It only took a few minutes to find their way back to the restaurant set. It was a street cafe of ambiguous European origin; the gracefully curved tables were draped with red tablecloths and topped with bowls of red and white roses. Tall candles perched in ancient green wine bottles overrun with wax. One table bore a basket of bread, another a plate of cheesecake and candied fruit. Behind the plastic windows were baguettes and a few other dishes.

MC immediately approached the desserts, but the disappointment was evident on their face when they tried to pick one up from the plate. "Fake food? I really wanted this chocolate-covered strawberry…"

"Useless," Hunt muttered, his hunger only growing now that he realized that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Wait, I see a catering cart." MC pointed across towards the wall and immediately wandered off.

Hunt was left standing in the middle of the set, alone with his thoughts. The soft rhythm of MC's steps echoed around him and he could hear the distant settling of the enormous building. Without another person next to him, the chilled air seemed to affect him more than before. He did up a few more buttons on his suit jacket and tugged forcefully at his cuffs, unwilling to admit that it was probably his separation from MC causing the uneasiness to coil in his gut. What if they got lost in the warehouse? What if they found a way out and left him there? After the way he had been acting, he wouldn't have blamed them.

Fortunately, it was less than a minute before the footsteps returned. MC held up a few hard-looking bagels, their expression apologetic. "Looks like this is it."

With relief and some anxiety that he was once again in such close proximity to his student, Hunt accepted a bagel and took an experimental bite. It wasn't as bad as it looked; there were even a few raisins, and some of the others looked like they had cheese baked into them. It could have been a lot worse.

Several minutes later he found himself sitting at one of the tables with MC, the two of them steadily eating their way through the bagels. His throat felt dry and he wished they had found water—it had been a hot day, after all, and the bread wasn't helping.

The silence between them drew out to the point of awkwardness. _Come on, Thomas. Are you really so love-struck that you can't make casual conversation with your student? Pull yourself together._ He sighed and put down his bagel. "All right. Fine. Let's talk."

"Really?" MC raised an eyebrow. "Mr. I Don't Want To Talk To MC All Day wants to talk?"

 _That's what I get for trying to be nice._ "We're stuck here all night, and I know you're not going to let up. Let's just get this out of the way. What do you want to know?"

"Um, everything," MC said as though this was both obvious and specific.

"You're going to have to narrow it down a bit."

"I want to know about your feelings."

Hunt's chest tightened, remembering the way he had pulled MC close on that balcony and kissed them. "You already know enough."

They waved their own bagel as though they were discussing the finer points of a script. "I know you feel something for me, but I don't understand why you can't just tell me that now."

Hunt held up his hands, anger prickling at the base of his skull. What was the point in trying so hard to keep his own feelings hidden—for the good of them both—if MC was just going to keep picking away at him? "Fine. You want to know how I actually feel? I'll tell you even though it won't make the slightest difference." _Maybe it will hurt less if I can just explain_.

He took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. MC watched him, eyes wide and expression neutral. "I feel—"

 _Crack!_ The lights snapped off, throwing the set into complete darkness.

For several seconds, all he could hear was his breathing and MC's and the roar of blood in his ears. Once the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, he cleared his throat. "The power must've turned off for the night. We should light these candles."

Faintly in the darkness he could hear MC's clothing rustling an their fingernails scratching at the cheap synthetic tablecloth. "Wait, you were going to tell me how you feel about me!"

"That was almost a moment of weakness." Hunt distracted himself by searching through his pockets for the matchbook he knew he would find. "It won't happen again."

MC's chair groaned as they apparently through themselves back in it. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm not."

When he found the matches he struck one with a hiss and it sputtered to life. MC's features were thrown into sharp relief by the flickering glow, and they squinted at the sudden brightness. The light grew steadier once he transferred the flame to the candles' wicks and shook out the match.

"'Cause everyone just has matches on them," MC grumbled. "That's normal."

 _Don't tell them about the times you got too drunk to drive home. Don't tell them how many nights you've spent in bare, anonymous motel rooms, too drunk and too empty even to call a taxi. Don't tell them about the growing collection of matchbooks you take from the bowls in the lobbies, too scared to pick up smoking but too desperate not to consider it. Don't tell them—_ "They were on the table. What have I told you about being observant?"

MC looked doubtful but apparently took the lie in stride. "We're not in class right now. You don't have to teach me all the time."

"But I do. It's my job to always push you, to be firm if it means you reaching your full potential." _I'm your professor._

"So you do care about me."

By now the conversation was causing Hunt physical pain. His fingernails bit into the palms of his clenched fists and a stabbing headache was developing in his temples. "As a student. This thing you feel for me, it's just a crush," he explained, forcing the words out as sweat collected on the back of his neck. _This is best. This is best. This is best._ "It's fake love, the kind people eat up at the movies. Look around this set. None of this is real, yet when this movie comes out, people will swoon for the romance as though real love can be like that. But it's all fake."

MC stood up so forcefully that their chair toppled over backwards, clanging and echoing in the darkened warehouse. The planted their hands on the table and leaned down to glare at Hunt. "My feelings for you are not fake. What I feel for you is more than just a Hollywood romance. It's real. And real feelings are about spending time with someone and enjoying their company, even when you're just eating stale bagels together. Even when the other person is being ridiculously stubborn." With that, they righted their chair and sat back down, breathing heavily.

Hunt was, frankly, a little stunned. It hadn't occurred to him that MC was willing to put so much into defending their feelings. "For once, I may have underestimated you, Danny."

"Yeah, just this once," MC said wearily, their head in their hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Finally finished! Enjoy and leave a review with what you think.

If you regularly read my HWU stuff, please consider coming over to my Tumblr (athenasdragon) and leaving me an ask with what you'd like to see next. The next Hunt date in this same style? Other characters' dates from their perspectives? Prompts you've been sitting on? I'll be taking a brief break from this fandom and but then I'd like to know what you guys want to see from me next.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

* * *

MC noticeably shivered and dropped their hands back to the table in the ensuing silence. Hunt's downcast eyes snapped up to follow the movement. "What's wrong with you? Why are you shaking?"

"I'm fine," MC snapped, a little too loudly. "It's just cold in here."

Sighing, Hunt twisted his arms behind his back so that his coat slid from his shoulders. Maybe if he could appease them in this respect, he could avoid that much more conversation.

MC eyed him suspiciously. "I thought offering me a jacket was beneath you."

"Even I'm allowed to change my mind occasionally."

After a beat they reached across the little table to accept the coat, settling it on their shoulders without putting their arms through. "But what about you?"

"I'll be fine for now, but it's going to get colder in here." He looked around for inspiration and spotted a faux fur shrug forgotten in one corner of set. Lifting the candle from the table and throwing MC into deeper shadow, he stood. "Come on. We'll see if wardrobe has something warmer."

He heard MC pick up another candle and he turned so that they could light the wick from his before turning once more into the darkness of set. They would have been well and truly blind without their little lights; the sun had set over an hour ago and it was getting late. If he didn't know better, he might have thought the AC had kicked on. Their breath steamed in the flickering glow from the candles.

"Okay, so you're not going to tell me about your feelings, I get that," MC said suddenly. "But we can at least try to get to know each other a little better."

"Go ahead," Hunt allowed. "Ask me something."

MC walked in silent thought for a minute. "What was your childhood like?"

"Typical, I suppose," he murmured. Bursts of memory exploded behind his eyes: barbecues, swimming in a lake, laughter and spitting cherry pits. "I have a huge family, and I used to make my siblings and cousins act out the screenplays I wrote."

"So you were a brutal director from a young age?" MC didn't laugh outright but the amusement in their voice was obvious.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It came out more good-naturedly than he had intended, especially as the accusation dredged up a few more images. "Although I did once make my oldest cousin cry… but she wasn't reading the part with enough ennui."

Now they laughed. "Even as a child, you were just delightful, huh?"

Other memories made their way to the forefront of his mind. A funeral. Words written and discarded, written and discarded. Words scorned, words thrown away in disappointment. The gradual fading away of family and acquaintances. New friends drifting in, out, in, out. Triumph and disappointment and torture and success.

This was the problem with MC. They had the fire, but the sheer amount of life Hunt had experienced could never be made up like a late assignment. The years between them would always be there, he knew, driving them apart like a wedge. He could see it now.

"Satisfied?" he asked sharply, irritable once more.

MC seemed oblivious to the change in his manner. "Never. But this will do for now."

The set was so much larger than it had seemed during the earlier tour. False walls and carts of equipment kept looming out of the darkness before them but Hunt never saw one of the exterior walls. Eventually, he was brought up short by the set piece that appeared before them.

"Looks like we won't have to go to wardrobe for blankets."

MC raised their candle with a soft exclamation. The set was that of a hotel with deep red walls and a plush carpet. The heart-shaped bed in the center was draped in a garish scarlet which clashed horribly with the walls—even though the project didn't belong to any of his students, Hunt couldn't help but critique every aspect of it. Someone had to. The pink rose petals didn't match either of the other dominant colors.

"Well, this is… unexpected," MC finally said, their voice cracking slightly. "I guess they go on their honeymoon in the movie, huh?"

Hunt restrained a sigh. It was like the universe was trying to get him to do something stupid. "I'll sleep on the floor."

MC silently walked over to the bed and began picking it apart, passing blankets and pillows to Hunt. As their fingers brushed his Hunt started; they were like ice. "Your hands are freezing, MC."

They pursed their lips. "Well, I'll be warmer on the floor next to you."

 _No no no no no no._ "Fine." _Wait, no that's not what I meant to say. I mean, it couldn't hurt_ much _, but—actually, it could hurt a lot._ "But I'm only doing this so you don't die of hypothermia. And once you're warm enough, you can sleep on the bed. It shouldn't go to waste." _If we'll both be on the floor, why don't we just both sleep in the bed?_

 _You know why,_ the other half of his brain whispered.

"Got it," MC said.

Hunt settled on the floor and MC parked themself right next to him. He tossed a blanket around their shoulders and suddenly they had pressed themself against his ribs. His heart stuttered once before settling on a racing rhythm.

"First time sleeping on a set?" MC already sounded sleepy.

Hunt latched onto this new topic of conversation, hoping it would help to distract him from the way his body was reacting to the person next to him. "You'd be surprised. When I first started out, I pulled a lot of all-nighters. Sometimes I'd get so tired that I'd just sleep on set.

"Really?" MC yawned. "It's hard to picture the Thomas Hunt hunkered down with a blanket in the middle of the night…" They nuzzled in against his shoulder and Hunt thought he might stop breathing all together. "Although I guess that's what you're doing now, so it's actually pretty easy to picture."

"There were some rough times back then," Hunt explained breathlessly, "but it was worth it. Anything's worth it when you're doing what you love."

MC hummed contentedly against his side. Hunt leaned slowly backwards until they were both prone on the warehouse floor. Guttering light from the candle cast dancing shadows over MC's slack face and Hunt watched the shifting shapes until he was sure they were asleep. Then he blew out the candle, leaving himself alone with his thoughts in the darkness.

* * *

 _He was back as the masquerade._

 _MC was wearing all red; it was that intense silken shade that flickers at the edges of your vision like a flame. They smiled and beckoned as they walked backwards in the crowd. Panicked at the thought of losing them, Hunt followed._

 _The other dancers wore blues and greens that blended and rippled. Was he swimming? No, just pressing past soft skirts and crumpled jackets, moving slowly, trying to keep his eyes on the vivid spot of color fading farther and farther away._

 _Suddenly, MC was right in front of him. He reached out to twine his arms around their waist. "Don't go."_

 _They smiled again and tenderly brushed his forehead. "I can stay if you want. You just have to say you want me to."_

 _The people around them buzzed. One voice warbled out of the crowd, indistinct yet insistent. He frowned; something was wrong._

 _"_ _Thomas? Do you want me to stay?"_

 _It was hot. The other guests pressed in on them, still dancing as though they weren't there. Fireworks outside burst with crackles and booms that made it difficult to think. And still that faraway voice…_

 _"_ _Thomas?"_

 _"_ _Yes." He pulled MC closer. "Yes. I want you to stay."_

 _MC grinned. Their ruby mask melted into their face and a forked tongue flicked between their lips. "Excssselent choicssssse." Jaw dropping to reveal an inhuman, gaping mouth, they let out a piercing scream. With it came the fireworks, springing from their throat like fire from a dragon, blinding him, burning him._

* * *

And then he was back on the floor of the warehouse. MC looked down at him, concern and something like triumph in their eyes. Gone was the fiery siren of his dream; here was the rumple-haired, bruise-eyed, beautiful person he was really enamored with.

"Wha— MC? Were you just asking me something?" _That voice._

"Oh!" They looked slightly guilty. "Uh… no! Nothing important…"

His neck was sore from sleeping on the floor all night but the lights were finally back on and he could hear muffled speech from far off in the warehouse. He was still too lost in the terror of his dream to pester MC further, so instead he pushed the blanket aside and stood. "Sounds like someone's finally here. Let's go."

* * *

It looked like it would become another blazing hot LA day, but for now the pale sun was just beginning to bake the chill from the sidewalk. MC handed over his jacket without speaking and Hunt could smell their scent on it as he shrugged it back on.

He knew that something needed to be said. They had just shared what might be called a traumatic experience and he was supposed to be the adult here. _Say something sensible, and reassuring. But kind. And not too emotionally vulnerable._

"Don't forget class is at eight instead of nine on Tuesday. You'll be getting another 24-hour assignment and I want you all to have the full time."

 _Idiot._

To his surprise, MC smiled. "Same old same old, I guess. I'll be there."

A taxi pulled up and Hunt hailed it first. "I'll see you in class, MC."

"Not if I see you first."


End file.
